


Destruction

by notromanticjusthopeless



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notromanticjusthopeless/pseuds/notromanticjusthopeless
Summary: “She never claimed to be a good person.”  Tessa, Scott, and thirty years of wreckage.





	Destruction

She never claimed to be a good person.

She closes the dishwasher, flicks the latch, and sets it to the normal cycle.As she tosses a stray napkin into the trashcan and reaches for her keys, she can hear the laughter coming from upstairs, a deep male baritone mixed with delighted, girlish giggles.She smiles as she grabs her handbag, the warm rays of the setting summer sun streaming in through the windows.She pauses at the bottom of the stairs, poised and ready to call them down so they can leave, when she hears the unexpected knock at the door.

She unlocks the deadbolt, and, as her hand turns the knob, she can hear them coming down the steps, chatting excitedly about which flavour of ice cream they’re each planning to try that evening. She swings the door open, and the unexpected sight before her leaves her frozen and breathless.

“Scott?” she mutters, barely able to inhale enough air to produce the name.

“Tess,” he replies, his eyes fixed on the little girl with the long, dark hair and brilliant hazel eyes, resting safely in another man’s arms.

* * *

Five years earlier, she had heard a similar knock at her front door, but, this time, it had not been unexpected.

“Thanks for coming,” she greeted him, stepping aside to usher him into the house. She had texted him, telling him she needed to speak with him in person as soon as possible and that it was urgent

He followed her into the kitchen, hands shoved in his pockets. “So, what is it that’s so important that you couldn’t tell me about it in a text?” he asked, his words clipped and detached.

She braced herself against the kitchen island, a barrier of protection between herself and this man whose life seemed irretrievably entangled with her own. “Why don’t you sit down. Do you want something to drink? I could -“

“I can’t stay,” he cut her off, “I have to get back to Jackie.” _Of course_ he hadn’t told his wife where he was going. She bit her tongue, because starting an argument would be a waste of time. There was a far more important matter to discuss.

“Scott-“

He interrupted her. “Please don’t tell me this is about that night.”

_That night _was two months ago, the last time they had spoken. She had been curled up on her couch with a good book and a glass of wine, her entire body completely relaxed from a long soak in a hot bath, her mind a little bit buzzed. 

“Scott, this isn’t-“

“It shouldn’t have happened, and it can’t ever happen again.”

He had shown up at her door, hair damp from the springtime thunderstorm roaring outside, alcohol on his breath. He had wordlessly stalked in the door, pinned her to the wall, and kissed her senseless. 

“Scott-“ 

“We agreed that it was a mistake, a stupid mistake.”

She could have stopped him, _should_ have stopped him. He was _married_. But resisting Scott had never been her strong suit, and it remained one of the few things she seemed incapable of achieving.

“_Scott_-“ 

“We agreed that we would never talk about it.“

She remembered that conversation. It had happened immediately after. As he scrambled to find his clothes and make himself presentable, he had told her it was a mistake. That no one could ever know, that they couldn’t discuss it. And as she had sat flushed and confused and vulnerable on her couch, a soft cream blanket held across her bare chest, she had simply nodded and murmured single-syllable words of agreement. It had all happened so fast that it had felt like a dream.

“_SCOTT!_”

“What?”

Then reality had come crashing down around her.

“I’m pregnant.”

It took all of her strength to force the words from her lips. She gripped the counter in front of her so hard that her knuckles turned white, and her muscles tensed as she braced herself for the fallout. "It's yours."

She watched the color drain from Scott’s face, as he wordlessly collapsed down onto a chair on the opposite side of the counter. Even after everything, even though they had grown apart, she could still read him better than her favourite novel. She could see that he was in shock, could see the wheels spinning out of control in his head. “Scott, say someth-“

“Jackie’s pregnant,” he deadpanned.

It felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of her lungs. There must have been some mistake. He couldn’t have just said what she thought she heard him say. Reality had already come crashing down around her the moment the stick turned blue, but this? _This_ had to be a dream. _This_ couldn’t be happening. _This_ was just too much to be real. “What?”

“Jackie’s pregnant. I found out when…. the night when we…..” and he couldn’t even say it. That _coward_ couldn’t even say the words. For years, all he had talked about was how much he wanted a family, how important it was to him to have children. Yet, the second he got what he had always wanted, he _ran_. He ran straight into her house and _ambushed_ her before she even had a chance to think, running away from his problems and ramming head-first into her, forcing her to absorb the impact of his emotions. After all these years, she shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had always been her greatest blindspot.

“Well Scott, that’s… that’s _something_.” An encyclopedic vocabulary, and yet, she was all out of words.

For the first time since she had told him the news, he looked at her, and the look on his face made her heart drop into her stomach. She had expected frustration, panic, fear, anger. Now, she felt like she was being torn in two, as if her insides were being shredded to pieces and there was nothing she could do to stop it. As the pain threatened to consume her, she forced herself to ask the question whose answer she already knew.

“So, what are you going to do Scott?”

She watched the guilt and remorse and _pity_ spread across his face, as he grappled for an explanation. The sight made her nauseous. “Tess, she’s… she’s my wife. I just…“ he sighed.

She was furious. This wasn’t the response she had planned for. She hadn’t really known what to expect, had absolutely no clue whatsoever what they were going to decide to do about everything, but she had expected… _more_. She had expected an explosion, yelling, anger, panic, fear, frustration, intensity. She had expected a hole in the wall or a screaming match or for him to storm out. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the reaction she had anticipated. She _wanted_ the reaction she had anticipated. 

“You know,” she started angrily, “maybe it would be best if you weren’t involved in this child’s life. No child support, no relationship, no contact, just.. nothing,” she told him coldly, her best attempt at trying to elicit a better reaction than the one he had given her. Because this wasn’t suppose to happen. This wasn’t how he was supposed to react.

“I’m sorry, Tess,” was all he said, before standing up, pushing in his chair, and seeing himself out her front door.

As she heard the door click shut, she remained frozen in place, hands still gripping the counter, eyes still staring at the spot where he had been just seconds prior. She knew he meant it when he had said he was sorry. He had hurt her so many times before, too many times to count, and she had always forgiven him. But, suddenly, she felt a new kind of agony tearing at her insides. Her entire life, everything had always been completely about her and Scott and their complex, destructive relationship. But now there was a baby - _her _baby. She was suddenly hit with the realization that this baby was very real and very present deep within her. There was now a small, precious baby, who was relying on her to nurture and protect it. Her hand flew to her abdomen, as if its presence there could block any and all harm from reaching it. Then, her other hand rose to cover her mouth, as she slowly sunk to the floor.

A sob emerged from deep inside her soul, as tears spilled from her eyes. Her uncontrollable cries continued unabated, as she sat alone in her kitchen, a heap of pain and devastation.

He had hurt and rejected her, and that she could have forgiven, but this was no longer just about her. This time, he had hurt and rejected her _child_. She stroked her flat stomach. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” she choked out, causing a fresh wave of tears.

She had always forgiven Scott, but, that night, she decided that she had forgiven him for the very last time.

* * *

Without addressing the elephant in the doorway, Tessa turns around.

“Hey guys, why don’t the two of you run along and get ice cream without me,” she requests, a fake smile plastered upon her face, eyes pleading with her partner to follow along.

He nods, face full of understanding. “Alright. Looks like we get to go on our own little date, huh kiddo,” he smiles at the little girl in his arms, who returns his smile with one of her own.

Tessa breathes a sigh of relief as she turns back toward Scott, who is still silently standing in the doorway. “Mommy?” She hears from behind her. “Who’s that? Is he your friend?” She takes a moment to thank the universe for her daughter’s blissful innocence, before she replies, “He’s someone Mommy used to work with. Now why don’t you two get going, you don’t want them to run out of all the best flavours!” She knows her fake enthusiasm isn’t lost on the two men, but she can’t bring herself to care.

As she ushers Scott inside, her daughter and her partner make their way out the front door. “Call me if you need me,” he says, as he kisses her on the cheek. Then, carries her little girl out of the house, and Tessa, now tense and terrified, breathes a sigh of relief, because her child is now out of harm’s way.

They stand there in her foyer and stare at one another. She makes no move to invite him in any further. Desperate to get him out of her home as soon as possible, she asks, “What are you doing here Scott?”

He locks eyes with her, and she recognizes the look on his face. It's the same look he had the last time she saw him, sitting in her kitchen five years ago. That look of guilt and remorse.

“Jackie and I are getting a divorce.”

* * *

She had told herself she was doing it for the privacy, but she also knew that she was full of shit. She hadn’t holed herself up in the Virtue family cottage for privacy. Well, not entirely, anyway. She had wanted privacy, yes, for both her and her daughter, but mostly she was just hiding. She knew that she would eventually have to face the world, and it would be only natural for people to wonder how she, a single woman who had never expressed a desire for kids, ended up with a child. There would be questions about her little girl’s paternity, and she knew a lot of people would speculate that the father was _him, _and, worst of all, they wouldn’t be wrong. She had a plan though, for how she would announce things and what she would say. But for now, she was hiding.

That was how she ended up propped up against the headboard in her cottage bedroom, dripping with sweat, surrounded by damp towels and sheets as her personal physician, who was costing her an arm and a leg, timed her contractions, her mother pointlessly repeating encouraging words by her side. Between contractions, her mind was filled with worry and fear and panic. She questioned her decision to avoid the hospital. “What if something goes wrong?” She worried about her ability to be a good mother. “What if I hurt her? What if I screw her up?” And as her contractions got closer together, as the pain intensified, tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried, “He should be here. He should be here for this.” She knew she didn’t really want him there, not after all that he had done, but in that moment of pain and vulnerability, she couldn’t help but wish for a world in which he hadn’t hurt and rejected them, a world in which he would have been present to witness the birth of the beautiful baby that he helped to create.

Eventually, the pain was so intense that all thoughts of fear and worry were banished from her mind, and there was no longer room for thoughts of anything but _pain_. Excruciating pain, and the distant echos of her doctor and mother urging her to push, and she suddenly felt as if she was being split in two. After what felt like hours, a brief wave of relief washed over her, and someone grabbed her hand, and she felt something warm and gooey and hairy beneath her fingers. In curiosity, she looked down and saw her daughter’s head between her legs, and she couldn’t tell whether the surreal exhilaration she felt coursing through her veins was from excitement or fear or indescribable love. Then she found herself pushing again, before suddenly falling back against the pillows, relief spreading throughout her exhausted body. A second later, a loud, hearty cry rang out, and she felt the warm weight of her daughter, her _beautiful, perfect daughter,_ resting on her chest.

She had read about this, about the flood of oxytocin that is released right after birth, but it felt nothing like she could have imagined even in her wildest dreams. Every nerve in her body was vibrating with love and joy and pure _bliss_, as she stared unblinking at the beautiful shrieking creature held against her chest. As she felt the tears start to come, she laugh-cried a simple “hi,” and her baby’s cries suddenly ceased.

Tessa gingerly scooted herself up further on the bed, shifting the baby so as to cradle the tiny little thing in her arms. She watched as her daughter’s perfect, miniature-sized limbs stretched out, wriggling about, her cute little lips opening and closing as she made sweet little mewling noises. Her heart was so full of love that it was painful. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” she whispered, impossibly small fists knocking against her chest. “Oh my god, Mom, I love her so much. I’ve never… I can’t imagine ever loving anything more than this. How did you manage to do this four times?” she asked her mother, eyes still glued to the baby in her arms. Her mother simply laughed.

She realized just how much off an irrational mess she was when the doctor took her daughter out of her arms to clean her up. She ordered her mother to follow them to the corner of the room, needlessly worried that her little girl, the most wonderful, miraculous thing that had ever happened to her, would simply disappear the moment she took her eyes off of her. Her nerves didn’t settle until her child was once again resting in her arms, cleaned off and swaddled snuggly in a soft, pink blanket. 

She gently kissed the top of her head, breathing in her baby smell. Silent tears started to fall once more, as she whispered to her daughter, “You were so worth it. You were _more_ _than_ worth it. You were worth _every last bit_ of it.” Because she was. She was worth every surgery, every devastating heartbreak, every moment of excruciating pain, every single fucked-up mistake. Never again would Tessa regret a single second of her life prior to that moment. Everything she had ever experienced had brought her to that moment, there in the cottage, her baby girl cradled safely in her arms. She would do it all again ten times over, just for that one moment with the child whom she already loved more than life itself.

As the tiny girl started to stir, little lips searching for nourishment, Tessa heard her mother speaking to the doctor. “Do we have a name?” the doctor asked. “Yes. Adeline Kate Virtue,” her mother replied with a smile, clearly pleased by the honour. 

As she finally managed to get Addie to latch on to her breast, felt the incredible and surreal sensation of feeding her child for the first time, she heard the doctor ask one more question. “What’s the father’s name?”

“There isn’t one,” she stated, her voice so loud and forceful that it startled the babe in her arms. She calmed her child, before elaborating. “There isn’t a father. Leave it blank.”

And that’s how it stayed.

* * *

“Jackie and I are getting a divorce,” he states, as if that explains anything and everything. 

It doesn’t.

“I’m sorry?” is all she can muster. She doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to play games. All she wants is for him to cut to the chase so she can get him out of her house before her daughter returns.

He continues. “With everything that’s been going on, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Obviously, Jackie and I, we didn’t… we couldn’t…” She had heard all about it, unfortunately, and she isn’t a monster. She really _had_ felt bad for the both of them. She couldn't relate, but just the thought of losing Addie before she was even born…. no, she would never wish that on anyone. “Anyway,” Scott continues, “I started to think about-“

“No,” her voice rings out, firm and loud and clear, as Tessa crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You didn’t even let me finish what I was going to say.” She doesn’t need to. She knows exactly what he’s after. She also knows she has no intention of ever giving it to him. Still, she wants him gone as soon as possible, so she humours him.

“Fine. Say what it is that you want,” she snaps.

“I want to try to have a relationship with our daughter.” She can tell he’s being sincere.

She doesn’t care.

“No.”

His earnestness morphs into frustration. “No? That’s all you’re going to say?”

She holds firm. “_No_, you may not have any relationship whatsoever with my daughter.” With that, she turns on her heel to walk away, because, really, she has nothing more to say to him. He made his bed, and now he should have to lie in it. At least, as far as she’s concerned.

She only manages to take two steps before she feels him grab her by the arm, yanking her back toward him. “I have rights,” he glowers, his body invading her space. She wrenches her arm away from him, but, instead of moving away, she moves closer, so close that their faces are almost touching. “You have nothing,” she whispers.

He isn’t about to back down. “I’m asking you as a courtesy. I could have just gone to court.” He backs off, feigning nonchalance. “I still could." She tries her best to school her features, but she knows her fear is still evident in her eyes. She feels a hot ball of terror expanding in her stomach. She knows he’s right, and she _loathes_ him for it, because she is Tessa Virtue, goddamnit, and _she_ is supposed to be the one who’s right. 

She prays that he’s bluffing.

“You would never take this to court.”

He glares at her. “Are you willing to bet your time with our daughter on that?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges, bile suddenly rising up into her throat.

He walks toward her, backing her up, placing his hands on either side of her against the wall, trapping her. “Let me paint you a picture of how this could go,” he starts. “You could let me have a relationship with my daughter. Or, you can try to keep her from me, and I’ll take you to court. I’d probably have to establish paternity first, though. I take it my name isn’t on the birth certificate?” She looks away from him. “I didn’t think so.” He smiles and releases a bitter laugh. “You know, if I really wanted to, I could just claim you never told-“

“You _know_ that’s not true!” He _knows_ she told him.

“Prove it.” 

She can’t breathe.

“Nah, I would never do that.” The smile disappears from his face. “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy lying,” he snarls. “Speaking of lying, what exactly have you been telling that man of yours?”

“Leave Mark out of this. He’s a _good_ man,” she pleads.

“Really? Well, for our daughter’s sake I’m glad he’s a good guy. Still, I can't help but wonder how much you've told him about your past? Have you told him about all of the things you’ve done?” She pales. “Lying, cheating, backstabbing, home wrecking…”

“Scott stop-“

“You want to be a bitch and keep me from getting to know my daughter? Fine. You do that, and I’ll make sure that ‘good man’ knows _exactly_ who you are, before I sue you for custody of _my_ daughter.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“Watch me,” he growls.

She stares up at him, terrified.

Then, her terror morphs into absolute, unequivocal _rage._

He’s using her daughter, _their daughter_, to hurt her. He fucked up, and he’s pissed that he’s not getting want he wants, so he’s using _their child_ as a weapon.

Hell hath no fury.

She straightens her back, refusing to let his posture intimidate her any longer. A malicious smile etches its way onto her face. 

Two can play at this game.

“Alright, Scott. Let’s stop with the hypotheticals and talk realistically. Say you go to court, establish paternity, get visitation rights, et cetera, et cetera. How exactly are you planning to explain to your family and friends that you didn’t tell them about your daughter, that you _chose to ignore your child’s existence_ for the first _four years_ of her life?” She watches his look of superiority disappear with a sense of vicious satisfaction. “And how are you going to explain to your daughter where you’ve been all her life?” The gutted look on his face assures her that she has managed to get past his defences and pierce his armour, driving the knife straight through his heart. She has managed, once again, to give him a taste of his own bitter medicine.

“And what are you planning to tell our daughter when she asks about her father?” he angrily counters. The question causes a feeling of nausea to well up inside her. It isn’t that she hasn’t thought about it. She just hasn’t been able to figure out what she would tell her. All she really knows is what she _won’t_ tell her, what she _can’t_ tell her: the truth. She can never tell her that her father was married to another woman at the time, that he chose his wife and his other unborn child over them, that he chose not to be a part of her life. She never wants to lie to her daughter, but she will gladly spend eternity in hell before she lets her little girl get hurt.

“I’ll tell her that she doesn’t have a father,” she explains, but her voice isn't nearly as strong and steady as it was a mere moment ago.

He laughs at her words. “There is no way she’s going to just accept that answer, no questions asked.” She wants to kill him for being right, but even more so for acting like he has any clue about what her daughter is like. He has absolutely _no right _to act like he knows what Addie would think. The mere idea that he would come into her house and act like he knows _anything_ about her little girl is absolutely maddening.

“Then I’ll tell her that her father chose to not be a part of her life,” she seethes. Now she’s the one who’s lying, but she’s too hurt and angry to care. In this moment, every ounce of her being wants nothing more than to scream and cry and punch him in the chest, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s hurt her.

“That’s bullshit! You were the one who said you wanted to do this on your own! And you’re the one standing in my way right now!” Her anger continues to boil as Scott continues to scream, before he finally manages to push her over the edge.

“You gave me an out!” 

“I gave you a _choice_!” she snaps, screaming right back at him. “And you _chose_ your wife and your _other_ unborn child over _her_!” 

She makes sure to leave herself out of it. She wants to scream at him for choosing Jackie over her, for hurting her in so many different ways throughout the years, for making her feel like she wasn’t good enough for him, for making her feel like it was _her_ fault that he couldn’t manage to be good enough for her. She wants to scream and cry and _rage_ at him, to unleash several decades worth of emotions that he had forced her to bottle up on his behalf, but she doesn’t. That ship had sailed four years ago, the very first moment she held their helpless, tiny baby in her arms. 

She would have forgiven him anything, but she will _never_ forgive him for hurting Adeline. 

“I _never_ said you couldn’t be involved! You made that choice yourself! You want to talk about taking this to court _now_?! If you had really wanted to, you could have gone to court _back then _regardless of what you claim I wanted, and I would have spent the last _four years_ dropping Addie off with you and Little Miss Florida Cowgirl every other weekend! But, guess what Scott?! _You _didn’t!_ You chose_ not to! I may have given you an out, but _you_ were the one who took it! This was _your_ _choice!_”

She hears the car pull into the driveway, headlights streaming through the windows, the sun having since set. She glares at him. “I think it’s time you left.” It isn’t a question.

As he opens the door and steps out into the warm night air, he turns back toward her one last time. “This isn’t over,” he states, as he shuts the door behind him. Tessa feels all of the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, as an ice-cold chill shoots up her spine. She grabs her phone and texts Mark, asking him to put Addie to bed.

She quickly runs up the stairs and toward her bedroom. Just as she closes the door, she hears Mark and Addie make their way into the house, and she listens as her daughter’s small feet run up the stairs, her carefree laughter echoing throughout the halls. Tessa sits on the floor against the far side of her bed and uses a pillow to muffle her sobs.

* * *

Two weeks after Addie’s birth, Tessa’s entire world changed. 

She knew she couldn’t hide forever. She supposed she had to leave the house sometime, even if part of her wanted to hide out with her daughter in their little cocoon of safety for the rest of their lives. So, after two weeks, she had her mother take a picture of the two of them. It was one of those gauzy, tasteful photos in a windowsill, curtains billowing in the background, a mother holding her child, the child’s face purposefully turned away from the camera. She posted it, introduced them as “The Virtue Two,” and hoped it would be enough to indicate that there wasn’t a father in the picture. She never released her daughter’s name, never showed her face, but nonetheless ended up documenting so much of their life together. It had given her a new challenge - well, besides the challenge of motherhood, of course. She spent her time strategizing about how share her love for her daughter with the world - because she couldn’t help but want to shout it from the rooftops - while still keeping their privacy. It worked out well - beyond her wildest dreams, as a matter of fact. She found herself bombarded with opportunities for baby endorsements, her role as a single mother only furthering her platform of female empowerment. She felt like a bit of a sell out at times, but it allowed her to keep her daughter constantly by her side, which was of far more importance than anything else.

She was overprotective of Adeline. It wasn’t secret. She wouldn’t even leave her for the first six months. After that, she only let her mother babysit, and even then only during the day. Business trips only happened on her terms, which involved being allowed to bring her child. She finally let Jordan babysit for her when Adeline was 18 months old, but even _that_ left her filled with worry for the hours during which she was gone. Tessa knew she was overprotective, she knew it wasn’t healthy, but she had promised her baby girl that she wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, and she intended to keep that promise by any means necessary.

It was shortly after Adeline turned two that Jordan became concerned. They were chatting at her kitchen table one night, each with a large piece of chocolate cake in front of them. They were having a relaxing evening, when her lovely sister decided to blindside her with the dreaded topic of her social life.

“So, have you gone on any dates recently?” Jordan asked, popping a piece of cake into her mouth. Tessa hadn’t even thought about a social life beyond Mommy and Me classes since before Addie was born. She knew she was walking into a trap, but her sister had her cornered.

“Nope,” she replied, sticking a large piece of cake into her mouth, hoping her sister would drop the conversation, even though she knew better.

“Well,” Jordan began, “my friend Jeff from work, his brother is a financial advisor. I’ve met him, and he’s literally the hottest, nicest guy. I was thinking-“

“Jo,” she interrupted her, “don’t.”

Jordan rolled her eyes in exasperation. “C’mon Tess. When’s the last time you went out with, you know, adults? Hell, when’s the last time you got laid?”

She knew the answers to those questions, which was exactly why she had no desire to discuss them. In a desperate act of sheer avoidance, she merely stuffed more cake into her mouth and avoided eye contact.

“_No._” she heard her sister exclaim, “No, no, no, no, you can’t be serious.”

Tessa wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor.

She felt her sister’s hand on her arm. “You haven’t been with anyone since Scott?”

She set down her fork full of cake, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths.

Tessa could count the number of people who knew the truth about Addie’s paternity on one hand. She had told her mother immediately. Then, one night, when she was eight months along, she had an epic hormonal meltdown after a particularly emotional sonogram. She was found sobbing in a heap on the floor, clutching her stomach, half melted ice cream by her side, and the words “How could Scott not want her?” had tumbled from her lips and into Kelly’s ears. Later on, when Addie was three months old, her infuriating sister had simply guessed. “She’s Scott’s, isn’t she,” she had said, the words more of a statement than a question. Tessa had been prepared to lie to people, but her sister had caught her so off guard that she hadn’t been able to hide the look of shock and panic on her face, so she swore her to secrecy instead. And then, there was Scott. Scott knew her child was his, was _theirs_, but he would never tell anyone. He had far too much to lose. So, four people. Only four people knew the identity of Addie’s father, and she still felt that was four people too many.

“Earth to Tess! You in there?” Jordan said as she waved a hand in front of her sister’s face.

Tessa shook her head and tried to banish any thoughts of her daughter’s paternity from her mind. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You haven’t been with anyone since Scott, have you.” She hates that her sister can read her so well.

“Jor-“

“Listen, just one dinner with Mark. It doesn’t even have to be a real date. Just look at it as a chance to get out of the house and have some adult-only interaction. It doesn’t have to be this big thing, okay? I just think it would be good for you,” her sister pleaded.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Being set up with some random brother of her sister’s friend sounded terrible. Besides, she always hated to leave Addie, especially at night. Still she wanted the absolute best for her daughter, and she knew her daughter deserved a mother who wasn’t some crazy, overly-attached recluse. Addie deserved to grow up surrounded by healthy adults, without all of her mother’s baggage and insecurities. “Fine. Just this one time,” she relented.

* * *

She finally stops crying, but she refuses to move a muscle for fear that it will reignite her panic and terror all over again.She hears the bedroom door slowly creak open and then shut behind her, as Mark’s footsteps make their way closer.He sinks down next to her beside the bed.He doesn’t speak. Instead, he simply sits with her, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for her to tell him what she needs.

“Ask,” is all she whispers.

“Was that Scott earlier? Your old skating partner?” he questions. She knows that he is already aware of the answer. She simply nods. “Is he…” he stops.

She knows that it’s her fault. She has spent years being so afraid, so skittish, that he’s afraid to ask her. But now, she _needs_ him to know. She is terrified and lost and she needs him to tell her which way is up and where to turn, but in order to do that, she needs him to know. So, she raises her eyes to meet his. It’s the only way she knows how to tell him to ask _that_ question, the one she has refused to answer so many times before.

He sees her, and he understands. “Is Scott Adeline’s father?”

The words hurt more than she ever thought they would.

She feels hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then forces the word “yes” from her lips on a sob. Mark’s arms encircle her, her body wracked with sobs once more, but this time he’s here, holding her, not caring as her tears dampen his shirt. 

After what feels like forever, she calms down enough to pull away, ready and determined to answer more questions, no matter the consequences.

As she pulls back, she notices the look of concern in Mark’s eyes. “Tess, I need you to be completely honest with me. When he was here, did he hurt you?” Yes, yes he had hurt her - earlier this evening, five years ago, so many times, but she knows that’s not what he’s asking. She shakes her head, and Mark breathes a sigh of relief. She watches him stare at her and calculate the risk, before he asks, “Tess, tell me what’s really going on.”

So she does. Through a cascade of tears, she tries her best to explain the last thirty years of her life. She tries to sum up their history, how Scott has hurt her again and again, but also how she has hurt him, too. “I’m not like you. I’m not a good person,” she insists, as she tries her damnedest to make him understand. 

But he _doesn’t_ understand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. We all make mistakes, Tess. It’s how we deal with them that matters.” She truly doesn’t deserve him. She doesn’t let that stop her, though. She continues to explain. She tells him all about that night when they made the most wonderful mistake, about the night she told him she was pregnant and he walked away, and, finally, about what had transpired earlier that evening. “He said this wasn’t over, and I have no idea what he meant by that. What if he... what if-“

Mark smooths a piece of hair out of her face. “There’s no use worrying about what ifs, sweetie.”

She knows that he can see the terror in her eyes, but she no longer has the energy to hide it. “But what if he hurts her?” Her voice comes out small and young and frightened. She's disgusted with herself.

Mark's eyes fill with concern. “I thought you said he never-“

“Not like that,” she clarifies, shaking her head. She doesn’t mean physically. She means something that has the potential to hurt far worse. “I promised her. I promised her before she was born that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. I _can’t_ let him hurt her. Not like-“ she stops, the lump in her throat suddenly rendering her unable to speak.

Mark cups her face. “Not like he hurt you,” he whispers.

Once again, she find herself weeping into her partner’s chest, her heart filled with an unbearable pain that feels like it will never end. She hears Mark whispering into her hair, “I won’t let him hurt either of you, okay? It’s all going to be okay.”

Eventually, she begins to nod off in his arms, emotionally and physically exhausted. Then, out of the darkness of her mind, she hears a cry. “Mommy!”

She bolts upright, springs to her feet, and starts running. In the eight seconds it takes her to reach Adeline, her mind is a flurry of irrational thoughts. She pictures Scott stealing her daughter out of her bed, or Scott coming with the police to take her daughter away, or Scott physically hurting her daughter, which she knows is the most irrational thought of all, but she thinks it all the same. By the time she reaches Addie, who is standing in the middle of the hallway in her light pink nightgown with messy hair hanging loose below her shoulders and tears running down her cheeks, Tessa is far more distraught than her daughter. She flings her arms around her baby girl, forcefully hugging her to her chest, panicked tears turning into tears of relief, while her heart continues to beat wildly. She feels Addie’s sharp inhale, and she knows that she’s scaring her, but she had thought… for eight whole seconds Tessa had thought that she had lost her baby girl. She had thought that her entire world, her whole life, was just… gone.

“Hey princess, what’s the matter?” she hears Mark calmly ask Addie.

“I had a bad dream,” Addie whimpers. “Mama, what’s wrong?” questions her scared little voice. Tessa feels guilty then, for scaring her child, but at least this is something she can fix. 

“Mommy had a bad dream too,” she whispers into her hair, before planting a kiss upon her head.

“Why don’t we all go and sleep in Mommy’s room tonight,” Mark suggests. She silently thanks the universe for the existence of this amazing man, who somehow hasn’t yet run screaming from her house. She stands up, Addie still wrapped safely in her arms, and carries her into the master bedroom. The three of them climb into bed, and the little girl quickly falls back to sleep against her chest. She runs a hand over her hair, marvelling at this beautiful baby that is _hers_, as she remembers how she used to hold her this exact same way all the time when she was an infant. She’s growing up so fast, and Tessa can’t imagine missing any part of it.

Mark drags her from her thoughts. “You need to go talk to him, Tess.” She just stares at him, wishing for things to go back to the way they were, to a world where Scott had walked out on them and she had never spoken to him again. “But I don’t want-“ 

“You can’t live like this - constantly worried and terrified. _Adeline_ can’t live like this. You have to talk to him. At least then we’ll know what we’re up against.”

She hated being wrong, and too many people who were not her had been right tonight, and it was fraying her nerves. But this is what she had wanted, isn’t it? For Mark to tell her which way to turn, to help her decide how to proceed when she feels so lost. She tries to remind herself that Mark being right isn’t a bad thing. 

Mark being right is a good thing. It won’t hurt her. _He_ won’t hurt her.

She places one last kiss on her daughter’s head, before she whispers, “okay.” Mark gives her a small smile, before leaning over and gently kissing Addie’s head, before capturing her lips with his own. Then, he rests his forehead against hers and murmurs, “I love you.”

Every time he says those three words, she feels that hot ball of terror bubble up inside her. Mark is a good person, she _knows_ he’s a good person, and she has been trying to trust that. “I love you, too,” she whispers softly. As she closes her eyes to sleep, her daughter heavy and warm on her chest, she tries her best to trust her own thoughts.

He’s a good man. He isn’t going to hurt them. He’s good to her and her daughter. She can trust him. She can trust _herself_.

She just wishes trust wasn’t so damn hard.

* * *

Her first date with Mark had knocked her off balance.

Jordan was right. He wa_s_ hot. He was tall, with dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and a slim yet athletic build. He looked good a tailored suit. His shoes were appropriately coordinated with his outfit. His hair was styled conservatively and flatteringly. Quite honestly, she had absolutely no complaints.

Over dinner, she learned that he was in international finance. He traveled all over the world for work, but he spent more time in Asia than anywhere else. They ended up swapping stories about Japan and Japanese culture, before moving on to talk about the pitfalls of travel, and then eventually coming around to how outrageous the Toronto real estate market was these days. She surprised herself by losing track of time, until the waiter brought them the check, which Mark refused to let her split with him, and she noticed the rest of the restaurant had emptied out. She reluctantly accepted his offer to drive her home, nervously rehearsing how she would politely refuse to let him come in for coffee, only to be pleasantly surprised when he let her go with only a kiss on the cheek, stating that he had an early flight to Singapore in the morning.

The next week he called and asked if he could take her to this authentic Japanese restaurant he had just discovered, and she couldn’t help but accept. It had been so long since she had eaten authentic Japanese food. Then, about halfway through dinner, Mark stepped out to take an important business call, which gave her the opportunity to call her sister and check up on Addie. “Who takes a business call during a date?” Jordan had asked. Tessa had merely shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, who cares? It’s giving me time to call and check up on my little miss.”

It wasn’t until the third date that he mentioned it. Addie had been dealing with a cold, which wasn’t really concerning, but Tessa still couldn’t help but worry. She had been repeatedly checking her phone, just in case, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. “Is everything alright with your kid?” Mark asked. She was immediately taken aback. She hadn’t mentioned anything to him about being a mother. It had felt too sacred, too private for her to disclose. Mark had sensed her bewilderment. “Jeff told me you were a mom.” She studied him for a moment, before she realized that he was genuinely unfazed by the fact that she was a mother. She tucked her hair behind her ears, quickly fretted over what and how much she should reveal before she said, “Um, yeah, she’s fine. She just has a little cold. I tend to get worried over nothing pretty much all the time,” she let out a little laugh. “So, you have a daughter?” he tentatively questioned. “Yeah, I have a daughter,” she quietly answered. She was grateful, and once again pleasantly surprised, when he changed the topic and didn’t ask any more questions about Addie after that.

By their fourth date, Tessa decided that she had no choice but to admit to herself that she did, indeed, like this man. He was handsome and charming and not the slightest bit pushy. He did travel a lot, and he had a tendency to become consumed by his work, but she understood that. They were actually similar in a lot of ways. She could become consumed with her work, too, as well as with Addie. She never felt bothered when he was away on a trip, or when he didn’t call because he was working late at the office, just as he appeared fine when she wasn’t available to talk while Addie was awake, or when she had her own business obligations. It was nice, she supposed, to have someone who understood you.

On their fifth date, the topic came up again. “So, this daughter of yours, does she have a name?” he asked light-heartedly. She liked that about him. He never made her feel like she was obligated to trust him or reveal parts of herself she wasn’t ready to show. It allowed her a moment to relax and consider her options. “Adeline. Addie,” she smiled. “Addie,” he repeated, before pushing further. “So, do you happen to have any pictures of this Addie?”

She was an intensely private person, but she was also an incredibly proud mother. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t even think. She just sat herself down next to him, opened the photo album on her phone, and started scrolling. Later that evening, _she_ was the one who suggested that they go back to his place for coffee. Then, at four in the morning, when he woke her up and said, “Hey I know it’s early, but I figured you would want to get home before Addie wakes up,” she realized that this wasn’t just an excuse to get out of the house for a bit. That this was, in fact, a very big thing.

For the first year of their relationship, they texted every day, talked on the phone _almost_ every day, and never went a week without seeing each other. Still, she always made sure she was home in the morning before Addie woke up, and Mark never stepped a foot inside her house. Tessa had told him, early on, that she wasn’t sure if she would ever trust a man around her daughter, and he understood that and had respected her boundaries. Yet, the harder she fell for him, the guiltier she felt for shutting him out of such a big part of her life. Then, their first anniversary happened.

Her mother was sick. Jordan was sick. Kelly was sick. Even her brothers were sick. Everyone was sick, and she had absolutely no one to watch Addie.

“It’s fine Tess, you’re a mother first. I get that. We can reschedule for another night. It’s no big deal,” Mark had consoled her.

“Or…” she paused as she questioned what she was about to do. She loved him. She hated herself for that a little bit, and she didn’t know if she would ever be able to say it to him, but she did. She loved him, and she wanted him there. She wanted this man that she loved to meet the little girl that she loved, and the entire idea made her feel selfish, like she wasn’t doing what was best or safest for Adeline, but she just wanted this more than she had wanted anything in such a long time. “Or you could just come over and eat dinner here.”

Her suggestion was met with silence, before she heard, “Are you sure?”

She was absolutely certain. “Yes.”

He arrived early but entered late, spending a good thirty minutes sitting in his car on a conference call. Even though she was home, she still slipped into a green dress, knowing it was his favourite color on her. She had put Addie in an adorable little pale yellow dress, a small white bow on a clip holding the front parts of her long, dark hair back and off her face. Her little girl was so excited to meet “Mommy’s Friend.” She kept peaking out the windows, bouncing on the tips of her toes in excitement, waiting for him to come in. When he finally exited his car and began to walk around the front of the house, Addie quickly ran to hide behind her, clinging onto her leg for dear life.

She swung the door open before he even managed to knock, and she was greeted with a smile and two bouquets of flowers, one for each of them. He kissed her on the cheek before looking down at the tiny girl attached to his girlfriend's leg. “And who’s this?” he asked.

Tessa crouched down to her daughter’s level, putting an arm around her as Addie’s face buried itself in her hair. With a laugh, she introduced them. “Mark, this is my daughter, Adeline,” she said. Her eyes locked with his, and she could see that he understood just how momentous this occasion truly was. Mark bent down in front of them. “Well, hello Miss Adeline. It’s very nice to meet you.” Addie shyly peaked out from behind her mother’s hair. “Addie, can you say hi to Mark?” Tessa encouraged. “Hi” came a small, soft voice, before the little girl turned back toward Tessa, clinging to her and burying her face into the crook of her mother’s neck.

They made their way into the kitchen, and Mark helped Tessa, whose hands were otherwise occupied by a shy three year old, put the flowers into two vases and pour two glasses of wine, before they moved to the living room. They fell into an easy banter, as little Addie silently watched them from the safety of her mother’s lap. “How’s Max been doing? Did he ever find his missing sock monkey?” Tessa asked. “Nope, not yet. He practically ripped apart the house searching for it though,” Mark laughed. Tessa felt Addie shift in her lap, and the little girl cupped her hands around her mouth, leaning up to whisper in her ear, “Who’s Max?” Tessa smiled down at her daughter, “Max is Mark’s mother’s dog.”

The moment the word ‘dog’ left her lips, Addie’s face lit up. She loved dogs, and she had been begging her mother to adopt one for months. She quickly sat up and whipped her head around to face Mark, excitedly exclaiming, “Your mommy has a dog?!”

Tessa watched as her daughter excitedly bounced around the couch, asking Mark a million questions about the dog. Mark matched her enthusiasm, answering every question with the utmost seriousness. Neither of them noticed when she got up to check on dinner, a fact that made her heart ache in the best way possible.

Later that evening, Addie asked Mark to read to her before she went to sleep. She had picked out a book about a dog just for him. Tessa watched from the doorway as he read. When Mark finished and closed the book, she went in to say goodnight. She could sense him watching them as she climbed into the child-sized bed and placed her face right next to her daughter’s, breathing her in, this incredible child that she felt so lucky to call her own. “Night night, Mommy. I love you,” Addie mumbled, her eyes drooping closed. Tessa wrapped her arms around her. “Goodnight, my sweet Adeline. I love you, too. Mommy loves you so very, very much,” she whispered, placing a kiss upon her forehead. 

She laid there for several more minutes, until Adeline’s breathing had slowed and evened out. Then, she carefully extracted herself from the bed and made her way out of the room. She grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. “She’s amazing,” he breathed, eyes full of wonder. He ran his hands up and down her arms, as he stared into her eyes. “You’re amazing,” he whispered. As he bent down to kiss her, he sighed, “I love you so much.” As she melted in his arms, she realized that _this_ was what happiness, true happiness, felt like. She pulled back slightly, then hesitated, physically unable to make the words come out. The last time she had said those words to a man, it had almost destroyed her. But she _did_. She did more than anything in the entire world, with the exception of her daughter. So, she locked eyes with Mark, took a deep breath, and silently mouthed the words. 

_I love you_. 

She worried that it wasn’t enough, that _she_ wasn’t enough, but then he picked her up and twirled her around, crushing his lips to hers amidst their laughter and tears, and she thought that maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was going to be okay.

* * *

The morning after he reappears in her life, Tessa leaves Addie at home with her mother, and Mark drives her out to Denfield to confront Scott. As they pull up to his house, she sees him refurbishing a chair on the front porch. They both get out of the car, and Mark leans against the door, watching as she walks out onto the grass, prepared to come to her aid should she need it. She had told him nothing like that would happen, that Scott would never physically hurt her, but she appreciates his supportive presence nonetheless. She sees Scott put down his tools and wipe his hands on his jeans, as she continues to walk toward him. “We need to talk,” is all she says, and she mentally kicks herself for sounding so cliché.

“Then talk,” he replies.

“I...” she falters. “I need you to let us go.” Her voice comes out sounding small and weak and a good twenty years younger, and she _hates_ herself. She hates herself for having loved him for so long, for having forgiven him again and again no matter how many times he had hurt her, for having to stand here and break him. And she hates _him_ for walking back into her life because this isn’t what she wants. But, more than anything, she hates that they can never seem to stop hurting each other, because Adeline, _their daughter,_ deserves better than to grow up amidst the ruins of all their hurt and destruction.

“Tess, she’s my-“

“Please, Scott, don’t do this!” she begs. She doesn’t want to cry, but she feels the tears pooling in her eyes. This is one fight she absolutely can’t stand to lose.

“I have every right to get to know my daughter,” he states. He’s firm, but he’s not angry. Not anymore.

“You’re right,” she admits, because he is and she knows it. “You have every right to get to know your daughter, which is why I’m here _asking _you to please, let us go.” She sees the steadfast and determined look on his face falter with her words, as he stares at her, tears streaming down her face, no longer able to hide all of the hurt and anguish she has bottled up for thirty years. Her only consolation is that she can tell that she still affects him too.

He steps toward her. “Tess-“

“I am so sorry. You have to believe me when I say I am so sorry, but _please_ Scott,” she earnestly begs. She will get down on her knees, if necessary. She has everything to lose. 

Scott stops and looks away. He rakes his hand over his face, as he tries to keep his emotions in check. After several deep breaths, he turns back toward her. “What are you going to tell her? Honestly, Tess, what are you going to tell our daughter when she asks where her dad is?” he questions with tears in his eyes, his voice breaking. She wants to thank him for holding it together, for balancing her out, but those days are long gone.

“I’m going to tell her,” she takes a deep, calming breath, “that her father _loves_ her. That he will _always_ love her. But that loving someone doesn’t keep you from hurting them,” she cries. “I’ll tell her that you loved us enough to walk away, so you wouldn’t hurt us anymore.” She sees the pain in his eyes, so she forces herself to take one more shaky breath. “So that we wouldn’t hurt _each other_ anymore,” she truthfully whispers.

“You promise that’s what you’ll tell her when she asks?” he chokes out.

“I promise.”

She watches as his eyes search her face, looking for any hint of a lie. She knows he won’t find one. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more honest in her life.

He looks at the ground, trying to hide his tears from her, not that he ever could. “Okay. Then I’ll… I won’t…. I’ll let her go.” He takes a step toward her, lifts his gaze to meet hers, and whispers, “I’m letting you and our daughter go.”

A sob escapes her as she throws her arms around him, burying her hands in his hair and her face in his neck. She feels his arms around her too, grasping onto to her tightly, his nose in the crook of her neck breathing in her scent, one hand tangled in her hair. “Thank you,” she whispers, holding onto him for one more moment, before she forces herself to pull back, giving him one last kiss on the cheek as she does so. They come apart, and she shoves her hands in her pockets and stares at him. She doesn’t know what comes next. She looks at him one last time, this man who has defined her entire life. “Take care of yourself, Scott,” she says, her voice once again steady and strong.

“You too,” he replies. With one last glance, she turns and walks back toward the car. Wordlessly, she sits in the passenger’s seat and stares at her hands, not wanting to catch another glimpse of him as they drive away. 

After the house is out of sight, they pull over beside a field. She unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs over the centre console. Mark pulls her into his waiting arms as the sound of her wails fill the car. 

She can feel the pain down to the very marrow of her bones, but she isn’t crying because of the pain, not this time. No, this time is different. This time, she had surveyed the wreckage left by thirty years of mutual destruction and made the choice to turn her back and walk away. This time, she has left it all behind her, and she's never going back.

This time, they are finally free.

* * *

She still wondered about him, sometimes.

When she’s honoured with an award by the Women’s Center, Addie’s name and face are finally revealed to the world. In a photograph splashed across the front page of a newspaper, her six-year-old is sandwiched into between her and Mark, a huge smile with several missing front teeth on her adorable face. She wonders if he sees it, wonders what he would think about how grown up she looks now.

When she hears about his second marriage, she wonders if he has ever told anyone about Adeline. Whether he may have told his mother, or one of his brothers, or perhaps his new wife. When she later hears about his second divorce, the lack of rumors and accusations assures her that he still hasn’t told anyone. 

When she reads about his sons and their hockey achievements, she smiles as she wonders whether or not he gave them names that start with the letter ‘A’ on purpose. She wonders if he considers himself a father of two or three.

She often wondered about a lot of things.

She wonders if Mark resents her for making him wait eight years to get married. She has to keep reminding herself that she never _forced_ him to wait around for her, that _he_ was the one who chose to stay, because he loves her and he loves her daughter, and he would have waited forever, as long as they were all together.

She wonders just how much her husband and daughter resent her insisting that Mark can't adopt Adeline before she turns eighteen. It isn’t that she doesn’t want Mark to adopt her. Mark is her father, her _real _father, the only one she has ever known. He's the man Adeline has called called “daddy” since she was five years old. Still, she feels guilty as she listens from the other room, while Mark explains to her distraught twelve-year-old all about her mom’s trust issues, and about how her mom has been hurt in the past and is terrified of anyone hurting her daughter. He even manages to explain things to Addie without ever mentioning _him. _She’s thankful that he doesn’t tell Addie what the _real_ problems is. That her mom can’t handle the thought of having to contact _him_ in order to make the adoption fully legitimate. 

She never has to wonder whether or not she deserves Mark, because she knows she doesn’t.

One day, when Adeline is going through her old photo albums for a school project, Tessa wonders whether her daughter recognizes her own hazel eyes staring back at her, or if she can see the resemblance between herself and her mother’s old skating partner. If Addie notices, she never mentions it.

Tessa always wondered about a lot of things, but her life was so full of joy and love and _living_ that those thoughts were usually fleeting. 

At least, all of those thoughts except one.

Tessa wondered when Addie would ask about her father.

She wondered about it every day.

In the end, she was relieved. 

_“What are you going to tell our daughter when she asks where her dad is?” _

_“I’m going to tell her that her father loves her. That he will always love her. But that loving someone doesn’t keep you from hurting them. I’ll tell her that you loved us enough to walk away, so you wouldn’t hurt us anymore. So that we wouldn’t hurt each other anymore,”_

_“You promise that’s what you’ll tell her when she asks?”_

_“I promise.”_

Tessa kept her promise to Scott.

Adeline never asked.

She never claimed to be a good person.


End file.
